


Clone Angst

by EustaceScrubb



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Emo Dean, Impulsive Behavior, M/M, Twincest, bad feelings and dubious consent, teenage angst, when you're a teen and everything feels horrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26385577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EustaceScrubb/pseuds/EustaceScrubb
Summary: Life is meaningless and Dean feels like shit. Why care about anything when you're just one in a long line of replicate clones?It pisses him off how easy-going his brother is.He wants to bring Hank down to his level.
Relationships: Dean Venture/Hank Venture
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Clone Angst

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say? I love emo Dean. 
> 
> I had this in my WIP pile for a while, but with the news of the cancellation I figured I should post it. I hope you enjoy.

It was four in the afternoon, and Dean had finally gotten a moment to himself. Between being forced to help his dad with projects and being forced to study for college, there wasn’t a lot of time to just be alone and do nothing. It was a little easier now that he had his own room in the attic.

He liked doing nothing now. There was always a sense of urgency in his life: had to go on an adventure, had to save a town from disaster, had to get saved by someone else. And what was the point? The cycle just started over again. The Monarch, or Hatred, or one of his dad’s innumerable other villains would attack next week, and then they’d have to save someone, or get saved, or save themselves.

It was maddening, and no one seemed to be aware of it. Dean had brought it up to his dad, to Brock, even to Hank, only to hear another iteration of “that’s just the way it is”. You couldn’t escape the Venture life. And Dean was expected to go to college and become another super-scientist and keep the cycle going for another couple decades. Why couldn’t anyone understand that he didn’t _want_ to do that?

He was currently sprawled on his bed, skimming through an anthology of magical realism. Dean didn’t really understand it (literary analysis was decidedly ignored by their STEM-focused learning beds) but he liked it. Something about how the words were played with and broken was so appealing. He was vaguely reminded of his own self-made newspaper from years before. Another bittersweet memory, more bitter than sweet if he was being honest. It had been made pretty clear by Dr. Venture that majoring in journalism was not a viable option for him.

“Hey.”

He looked up. Hank was leaning against his doorway.

“Don’t you knock?” Dean asked pointlessly.

“Not usually.” Hank stepped over to the shelves and began poking around. “I like what you’ve done with the place. It’s almost a lair. What is this, candles?”

“Stop touching my stuff.”

“What are you gonna do Sabrina, wiccan curse me?”

Dean groaned and sat up from his position on the bed. “Why are you here?”

“Dad wanted me to tell you that he’s going to a science conference this weekend and you have to go too. There’s like, college people there.”

Dean groaned again. “I’m not gonna do that.”

Hank picked up a book at random and flipped through it. “Tell him, not me.”

“Stop touching my stuff.” Dean got up and grabbed the book from Hank’s hand, placing it back on the shelf. He started rearranging the stuff that Hank had disturbed on his desk.

“What’s up with you lately? You’re usually like, all over that dork stuff.”

Dean hated his brother sometimes. His endless well of optimism was something that he loathed and weirdly… admired at the same time. How could they both go through the same traumatizing experiences and end up so different? Didn’t Hank see the endless cycle of villainy and heroism, death and rebirth? How could he still be so… Hank? Dean didn’t know if he wanted to rise to his brother’s level of unwarranted confidence or if he wanted Hank to sink to his.

“It’s– doesn’t it make you mad?” Dean asked finally.

“I dunno, Dad never invited me to science stuff anyway.”

“Not… that. Aren’t you mad that we just have to do whatever Dad says, and even if we don’t, we just end up in the same shitty story again and again?” Dean knew he was getting too heated, too angry, but he couldn’t help it. “We could have had a normal childhood. We could have gone to public school and made normal friends and not even KNOW about, like, secret organizations. Or science criminals. Or– or– Aztec ghosts. But no, we have to be _boy adventurers_. We have to do Venture stuff.”

Hank shrugged, a little uneasy. “It’s not that bad. It is–“

“Do _not_ say “it is what it is.””

“I thought you liked adventuring?”

Dean grabbed Hank by the shoulders. “Why aren’t you more angry about this? Is there like, a screw loose in your head?”

Hank stared at him mutely, clearly not understanding. Dean wanted to scream. He wanted to shake his brother, snap him out of whatever fantasy he was in and put him back into the cold harshness of reality. He wanted to–

Dean leaned in and kissed him.

It was a bad kiss, too aggressive and harsh. Dean felt his brother’s head hit the wall behind him as he leaned in further, turning his own head and opening his mouth to deepen it. Hank stood there for a moment, letting it happen, before twisting his head to the side and breaking it off.

“Mmff– hey! What are you doing?”

“What? It’s not like we haven’t done this before.” Dean said flatly.

“Yeah, but… that was for, y’know, practice.”

That was true, in a sense. The thin excuse of “practice” had covered a lot more than just kissing. When you were the only two people of the same age in the middle of an empty compound, who else were you going to work out your strange, new teenage feelings on? It was natural that some wires were going to get crossed. But then Dean met Triana and Hank made friends with Dermott and they had kinda just… stopped. They never really talked about it, but experiencing the real world made it clear that this was something that brothers were _not_ supposed to do with each other.

“Who says this isn’t for practice?” Dean said, and kissed him again. _What does it matter, anyway? We’re literal test tube babies, we didn’t even share a womb. It’s not like THIS is the thing that’s going to make us go to hell._

Hank was stiff at first, unresponsive, but after a couple more moments gave into the rhythm. This was something familiar to both of them. Dean kept his hands on Hank’s shoulders, pinning him to the wall. It felt so nice to just touch and be touched by another person. Dean didn’t realize how touch-starved he’d become: never mind kissing, when was the last time he’d gotten as much as a _hug_ from someone else? It was nice but… he wanted more.

Dean angled himself closer to Hank’s body, slid a knee between his legs and slowly moved it upwards. Hank breathed out softly from the contact, and after a few languid presses, responded in other ways. Dean got a weird sort of pleasure in the fact that his brother was still into him, still responsive after all these years. They’d barely been at this five minutes and he was already ready to go.

 _Does he realize how messed up this is? Does he think about it at all?_ Maybe Hank only saw their “practicing” as just that, practicing. Dean had jerked off to his brother before, but it always felt wrong afterwards. Especially since they slept three feet from each other. His new room had given him more than just some space to reflect.

But maybe he was just the weird one who thought of his brother like that. Maybe those late-night fumblings were nothing more than odd, slightly funny memories to Hank.

Dean wanted to tear Hank down to his level.

He broke away from the make out and nuzzled into Hank’s neck, trailing soft little kisses for a moment before biting down hard.

“Ow!” Hank flinched away, but Dean was at his ear now, mixing kisses and gentle love bites. He barely noticed that Dean had already unbuttoned his pants. He _did_ notice when he slipped a hand inside and began to squeeze. He gasped softly before grabbing Dean by the wrist.

“What are you doing!?”

“Y’know, I was thinking,” Dean murmured, slowly stroking up and down, “I don’t think we actually ever went to third base?”

“…you don’t have to do that, Deano.”

“But I want to.” Dean dropped to his knees. This was the sort of things adults did. He had never done this sort of thing before, but he had a vague idea based on the handful of erotic material he’d managed to scrounge up the compound. And he knew Hank better than anyone.

He didn’t think about it for too long. If he hesitated he wouldn’t do anything at all. Still stroking with one hand, he licked upwards experimentally, and looked up to gauge a reaction. Hank was staring down, hand coving his mouth, but quickly looked away once they made eye contact. _Interesting._

Dean went further, taking the head into his mouth, rolling his tongue around. It tasted weird and fleshy, but he was too distracted trying to get a rise out his brother to care.

 _This must bother him, right? Seeing me like this? This is an_ objectively _messed up situation. Maybe I should lay it on thicker._

On the downstroke he moaned in his throat, making a passable imitation of a porn star noise. He went down, deeper, until something hit the back of his throat and he had to retreat. He made some more noises coming up, staring upwards at Hank. Who, for his part, seemed tortured by the choice whether to look or look away. His face was entirely pink, and the hand covering his mouth had not moved an inch.

That was the Hank that he liked to see, sweaty and horny and devoting all his attention to Dean. He wanted to monopolize his brother. Why was he spending time with Dermott or trying to get girls when he had someone who wanted him right here at home?

Finally, Dean felt like he was getting into the rhythm. The next moan was barely faked.

“Dean…” Hank whispered, in a odd tone of voice. Dean couldn’t tell if he was asking him to stop or to keep going. He used his other hand to keep Hank’s hip in place as he redoubled his efforts.

He felt a hand on a his head, which made him moan a little louder and lean into the touch. This was apparently enough for Hank, who came with a muffled grunt. The liquid splattered against Dean’s lips and dribbled down his chin.

 _Gross._ He wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. He turned to look up at Hank and, on a whim, slowly licked the cum off his hand. He didn’t know if he wanted Hank to be disgusted or pleased. He wanted to push him away and draw him closer at the same time.

Hank looked simply a little overwhelmed.

Task completed, Dean got up, walked back over to his bed, and flopped down again. The high of the moment had worn off. His apathetic nihilism had turned into a familiar twist of anxiety. _It’s fine, I’m fine. That wasn’t a weird thing to do, or if it was, who cares? I’m already a freak– WE’RE already freaks._

He curled up further into the fetal position. The knot in his gut turned itself tighter. _Jesus. I did that to him. To my_ brother _. I’m awful. What kind of depraved monster does something like that? He didn’t even–_

The bed squeaked a little as Hank sat himself on the edge, behind Dean.

“Are you okay?”

Dean didn’t answer.

“You know, you can like… talk to me? If something’s going on?”

Dean let out an almost imperceptible sigh. He was doing his best to hold back tears, although he didn’t know exactly why he was crying. He had always been the crybaby of the family.

Hank lowered himself to the bed and wrapped an arm around Dean. It was an almost childish gesture; they had shared a bed like this many times over the years. It felt a little different now. Dean nestled into the pose, unable to resist the warmth at his back.

A couple drops fell off Dean’s face and wet the pillow. He sniffled, afraid Hank would make a comment, but he seemed to be politely ignoring it.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, after a minute. “Sorry.”

“What for?” Hank said, squeezing him a little tighter.

They lay like that, curled together, until the sunlight faded from the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
